fire and loveliness
by salty nap princess
Summary: It's not love, it's infatuation / She stares at him like he's the bottom of the universe – HansElsa, modern college angst AU


**Notes 1** : Idk what this is … is this another college AU? Uhh … just take my garbage. Also, inspired by _The Great Gatsby_ in a way.

 **Notes 2**

Most writers: Spooky Ghosts/Vampires/Frankenstein's monster!

Me: Student loans! Commitment is terrifying and so is the unknown future! Insecurities, self-doubt and uncertainty!

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 **fire and loveliness**

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It only takes two lonely people to fuck love up and make it evil,

It only takes a drop of evil to fuck up two beautiful people

– **Marina and the Diamonds** , _E.V.O.L._

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 **i**

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They weren't even considered friends – but he's the first person she calls.

She keeps repeating herself over the phone, "I'm usually _so_ careful. I planned everything. I made sure. I double, tripled checked."

He could hear her breaking. But she didn't sound wet with tears so he assumes she's trying not to cry. He doesn't ask her if she's okay because, surely, that would open the flood gates.

Elsa will admit it (to herself), she struggled not to collapse there and then. It was just … there was nobody else around, _literally._

She word vomits everything in her delicate state, "I shouldn't have come, _I'm so stupid._ Why did I think this was a good idea? I'm only a second year, what do I know? I thought I was careful and organised but, apparently, I'm not. I don't understand, I checked my e-mail and the website and everything, there's no update that said the advisory session got cancelled. I even called the Law Clinic on campus but nobody was there to answer, I mean, it's no surprise, it's late and – I dunno. I know I'm not at the wrong place, the website said so and ... the lady who let me in even confirmed the Clinic holds advisory sessions here. She said she'd come back at nine PM to lock up. She told me not to let anyone in because there's been a recent risk of vandalizers and the door won't lock. I tried and I … I can't just leave. I went around the building to the reception area but I'm the only person here. There's an emergency number for me to call but it's not really an emergency, I know this isn't your session and I don't know why you would come but … could you? Please? I'm scared."

Green eyes flitted over to his laptop screen, skimming over documents and PDFs. It's seven fifteen and Elsa, someone he barely knows, is stuck in the dodgy part of town at an open community area for anyone to freely walk in.

Hans sighs, this is what they get for volunteering after hours for the Law Clinic on campus. His peers have complained about it, stating the staff overwork the students there. 'You'll hate it but the experience is good overall', his seniors told him. _For fuck's sake_.

"Hans?" She calls, she sounds … so small.

Maybe she's losing faith and taking his deep sigh as a sign of irritation? He's not _that_ cruel. But, he's not usually a nice guy either. Elsa reminds him too much of –

"You're at Saint Christian Communal Centre, right?" Hans asks her instead. He tries to not think of pity.

"Right …" She explains how it took her twenty minutes to get there on foot. She has no idea how far away Hans's place is from the communal area. What if he has to take a bus because of the distance? Or what if he just doesn't come because it's so far away? She's over thinking.

"Okay, I'll be there in fifteen." He answers, already packing up his laptop and notes into his near-by backpack, while balancing his phone on his shoulder.

"R – Really?"

"Yeah, want me to bring you anything?"

"N – no. It's alright. Just … thank you." Elsa replies politely. In her head, she adds another five minutes to his journey. She got lost trying to get here.

When he gets there, he doesn't address the wrecked state she's in, thinking maybe she'd hate being seen as weak (because he knows he would). Instead, he slides his backpack on the meeting table and asks her where the kitchen is like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"There's a kitchen?" She was so sure that she would cry if he were to ask 'are you okay?' so she's glad that he didn't.

"It's a communal area, Elsa." He replies while taking off his gloves. She can't believe he braved through the chilly night to calm her down.

"I was too scared to move away from the door. I only noticed the toilets because of the symbol on the doors." Elsa says, twisting her hands together.

He needs to pull her out of her headspace, being alone has done bad things to her. He thinks fast.

"Do you want some tea?" Hans asks though he's leaves no time for her to consider it, already taking quick strides to the kitchen area. His questions works though, with Elsa following behind him, still tense.

"Are we allowed to have some?" Elsa asks, hands still wringing around each other. This is … awkward? What would they do after the tea is made? Study in silence? It's a pretty rubbish way to spend a Friday night.

"I expect so, if not it would be a shitty advisory session. Who doesn't serve tea to their clients?" Hans says, opening cupboards to make sure there's something there.

"Um," She's so unsure of everything. Too mousy for his taste.

"So do you want some tea or not?"

"… Yes, please." But her answer and politeness doesn't stay for long because soon she's beating herself up again like she did over the phone. "You must think I'm so dumb for getting myself into this situation –"

"Do you want milk in your tea?" Hans asks, deliberately cutting her off, opening the small fridge.

Elsa gives him another uncertain look. "Is the milk still okay?"

He reads the expiry date aloud, it goes off today ... "I'm going to have some."

"What if you get a stomach ache?" She worries too much.

"Well, that'll be something I'll regret tomorrow."

She gives him a confused look. The attention she's given him so far has been a reasonable amount but now he thinks it's a little overwhelming. Elsa can fuss all she wants but he **doesn't** need her to worry about him. And when he looks back at her, properly since he stepped into the building, he notes how the ugly yellow lights above their heads have caused this effect with her eyes. They're really blue. Deep like the ocean. They're glimmering too. Probably tears.

Elsa asks him, "Why would you do that to yourself?"

Hans turns his back to her, overlooking the sink, filling the kettle to boil. "Why not take risks?" He asks back. If it's worth it, that is.

"Hans, you shouldn't. I'd feel so bad. I don't think it's a wise idea –"

He distracts her again. He doesn't let her run through her toxic thoughts or consider anything about him. He's always been a stranger to her. Tonight, he's just a _kind_ stranger. But he won't allow any difference (he tells himself) once everything is over, he's used to being on his own.

"Your job is to find yourself a clean cup." He tells her.

The expression on her face changes, first confused and then not. "Oh, okay." Elsa utters. Maybe she knows that she's pushing it? Maybe she doesn't? But she does as she's told, looking into the single cupboard occupying the small room and plucking the first thing she sees.

 _That's the sixth or seventh time. She's easy to distract._ Hans thinks. Or maybe he's just good at manipulating. Who knows? Same difference.

"Is this okay?" She asks, showing him the insides of the cup.

"Yeah, sure." He answers the same time the kettle clicks.

He pours hot water into tiny cups and doesn't let her mull over anything once the warm drinks are pressed in their hands. No, she's done enough of that. And he's done answering her questions. Too much of that will lead to exposure of sorts. Elsa doesn't need to know anything about him. He thinks she's a mess when thrown off, but also much too lovely for him. He'll ruin her.

"Have you finished our seminar work for Monday?" Came her question. It's a normal kind of thing to ask someone you don't know. All they know about each other are their names and what classes they share. Actually, sometimes he forgets she's there. He only remembers when she's being studious and raising her hand to answer their seminar leader's questions.

"No, I usually do that on Sunday, I was busy writing notes before you called. I feel like I'm always falling behind no matter what." He replies, firing up his laptop.

"I could lend you my notes if you want." She offers kindly.

"If you don't mind."

"I don't."

This conversation feels like it's ending. He's bracing himself for two hours of silence but then ...

"What did you get for your last essay? I think I did pretty bad, I went over the word limit." Elsa says not even a minute later.

Okay, he **can't** do this. Too much talking.

"Do you _actually_ want to spend the rest of tonight studying?" Hans asks back instead and doesn't add, 'Do you think you can? After having a breakdown?'

She looks at her neatly organised prepared pad and pen. "Not really." Elsa replies in a small voice.

Hans doesn't know why but he feels like wincing. The way she had said it … it's like she's conditioned herself to feel bad for not devoting twenty-four hours of her life working herself to the ground. It hurts seeing her like this. He should be just as ambitious but … he's kind of lost that spark. Maybe some of her fiery passion will rub off on him tonight?

"Let's do something else then." Hans says, already something in mind. Something to stop her from talking his ear off. He pulls his chair closer to her. The way he's just thrown that out there so casually, it's like he owns the place and is taking charge, which pretty much speaks volumes about him.

"Like what?" At this point, Elsa is so agreeable that he doesn't know if she even has a personality.

He suggests they watch something to kill the time and they settle on something Law related, they watch _How To Get Away With Murder._

;;

"What's this?" Hans asks when she finds him sitting in the library. He's easy to spot, his hair's too bright.

"Notes. _My_ notes." Elsa replies in a low voice, a neat bundle of paper placed on his desk.

He looks at her elegant handwriting like it's foreign. He expected her to e-mail him and never speak to him ever again but … here she is.

She's quickly taking a spot beside him even without waiting for him to take her notes. She's already unpacking all her books and he. doesn't. understand. When he gives her a look, she answers, "You didn't come to class."

"I go to our seminars." Hans doesn't even bother to whisper but she does. He thinks she follows the rules too much.

 _Yeah, for the attendance_. Elsa thinks then tells him sharply "But not our lectures."

Ah, so she has _some bite_ in her.

"The lectures are recorded, there's no point coming." Hans answers, looking around the library. He practically _lives_ here. _Look_ , Elsa's a pretty girl but he already feels _horrible_ for talking to her. She's the kind of risk that isn't worth taking. Besides, he likes being alone.

"Last week you told me that you were 'falling behind no matter what'," She rehearses. _God_ , he really **shouldn't** have told her _anything_ about himself. "Skipping class isn't going to make things better."

Okay, he knows he just thought it was a bad idea to tell Elsa his life story but he does feel the need to defend himself. "Just because I don't show up, doesn't mean I don't put in effort. I do. I take detailed notes from the recordings. I can't do the live version, our lectures talk too fast and I miss things; I either get lost, space out or get bored and subconscious pull out my phone. At least, I can pause the recordings." He tells her, which is all news to her.

 _See_ – they don't know much about each other, they're barely friends. They just happened to exchange numbers that one time when they were grouped for a presentation. It was luck that they shared several seminars from first year until now, which lead them to discuss volunteering for the Law Clinic but other than that … their relationship is non-existent.

"You never told me what you got for your last essay." She continues speaking to him and he realises she isn't going away. Elsa's already opened a lecture slide to polish her notes and he's got some _YouTube_ video playing in one of his many tabs.

"Ladies first."

"I got a seventy-two."

He swears his head turns. "That's a _first_ \- What? _How?_ "

"What do you mean 'how'?" She raises a brow. He watches her jaw clench in a certain manner. Is that normal?

"I mean, I spend practically seven hours at the library everyday, perfecting my notes and doing all my reading but I _barely_ get a 2:1."

Elsa pauses for a moment then suggests, "I could … I mean, if you want too, of course ... I could tutor you." She says quickly but she second guesses herself. "Unless your friends are already helping you out."

Yeah … he didn't really come here to make friends. Crowds easily swam to him but, after a while, it gets boring. They only 'like' him for him charm, money and status. After getting used and using people, it gets old and he likes being alone better. It's easier not to ruin anyone.

But Hans has to say, he is at a disadvantage. He kind of hates his degree. He doesn't have the passion for it, and maybe that's why he's struggling so hard to prove himself. He's spent too many years putting two hundred percent into everything only to be overshadowed by a dozen brothers. He only chose Law because, miraculously, nobody in his family wanted to do a Law degree. 'Lawyers are ambulance chasers,' His father had said, as if businessmen, politicians and a thousand other career paths weren't just as bad and corrupted.

He drums his long fingers on his desk, not caring that people were sending him a look. "Why do you want to help me?"

"Because you helped me?" Her answer came back sounding like a question. She's uncertain herself.

Hans wonders how lonely Elsa is. Is she a loner like him? He has reasons though. Does she? "Aren't the notes enough?"

"I don't know?" Her pale brows scrunch up. "You just seem lost."

 _I am._ "Do you even know anything about me?"

"… No? Should I?" Well … that's the million dollar question. Does he let her in or …?

"I'll send you my schedule and we'll see when we can meet up." He answers like it's nothing.

Then he looks at her, waiting for her face to perk up like she's won the jackpot but she just gives him a small smile and utters, "Alright then."

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 **ii**

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Elsa thinks she's uncovered Hans's secret – he's horribly wealthy and therefore has trust issues. Which is reasonable. Like _Jay_ _Gatsby_ , only having a couple of true friends. She didn't think he could get any deeper, not like her who has high walls and only shows _just enough_. Just enough to not be forgotten but also not enough to stand out either. It's 'just right', enough to be realised she's in the background, all according to plan.

However, he is the kind of person her late father had told (warned) her not to associate herself with. She expected him to be the kind of person who spends hours playing pool; looking at a decorated wrist, owning _Rolex_ watches that tell everyone of all the time wasted; breathing in smoke through cigarettes. But, he isn't any of those things.

(So she continues counting down the seconds until she's with him. Maybe she's attention starved, it's hard making friends when she doesn't try and just studies)

"We should do something," Hans says, hands buried deep into the pockets of his bomber jacket. It's a chilly night, he's forgotten his gloves and he thinks, it's such a cliché scene; just the two of them sitting on swings at an abandon playground.

She looks at him in the face. In the moon light, it could be arguable that his eyes are the colour of the sea; sea green, shifting and changing like the ocean itself.

"Oh?" Elsa asks. _What should they do?_ She's pretending to not be bothered by the bite of the cold air.

He yanks on the chain of her swing, pulling her closer to him and tells her, "Let's watch something. Let's watch _How To Get Away With Murder._ " It's not even a question or a choice, it's a decision.

"Oh," She repeats after realising what he had just done. _That is_ , the closeness of them. Not the fact that he had just decided something for the both of them. "Okay."

He gives her _this smirk_ at her answer then let's go of the chain, causing her to swing away, a little further from him. And before the motion of the swing gets to bring her back to him fully, he stands and abandons his seat, ready to be on his feet.

"Hans?"

But he doesn't stop. He's always moving, a restless man, he is.

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 **iii**

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"Do you believe in love?" Her question came in the quiet of the night, sudden like a clap of thunder on a gloomy, grey storm.

Elsa asks this after watching the two characters _Annalise_ and _Sam_ fight. It's both verbally and physically abusive. It's painful to watch. What a toxic relationship, she doesn't understand why these two continue to stay together. Just split up and move on with life!

"Love?" He echoes, feeling like a stupid parrot or a broken record.

"Hmm, do you believe in it?"

Despite it being only a show, her question **makes** him stop and think. No, **forces** him to stop and think. What is this? Are they going to braid each other's hair now? Share opinions, dreams and futures together? Like he'll **ever** spill any of that to her, _of all people._

He thinks of his parents that should be but aren't divorce. He thinks of his large number of brothers, so many that he can't count them all with both hands, brothers whom he never has to share anything with. He thinks of the financially stable life that his family has provided, of the roof above their heads, and their fineries. All the picture of a happy, successful family.

He gives her a half smile and says, "No." Or rather, he chooses not to believe in it. It feels like a dream. Or maybe a lie. Yeah, that's the word. "I've been told that I have no heart. Therefore, I have no compassion so I'm a rather selfish person. I can't deal with taking care of someone else. Do you?" He asks her now.

"Have a heart and compassion?" She blinks.

"Believe in love." He corrects her.

Elsa thinks she's heard someone tell her, 'Love irrationally'. She doesn't remember who had told her this, if she's heard it on TV or if she's read it in a book. But, she knows it's advice. And she knows, she will never follow it.

Because she will **never** be irrational. Everything about her is measured. Just the right amount of happiness, laughter that is perfectly timed so it doesn't get annoying, a smile that stays on her face just long enough but never _too_ long.

Elsa likes being safe, and maybe that's the problem. Risk scares her. She will not let her heart go, much less het broken. Even if it'll shape her.

"No." She mimics his reply, copying his tone perfectly, down to a T.

After all, if love was real, her parents wouldn't be six feet in ground, because, isn't love supposed to triumph over? Fairy Tales told her so. Elsa thinks she's cursed and doesn't want to bring anyone she cares about down with her. She's rather die alone, thanks.

He stares at her and she stares back, unmoving. There is this small connection, _this moment_. They both recognise it, but they do nothing and love it.

.

.

.

In the cold and grey light of the day, known as early morning, he looks up and wonders, is the sky as dark as his heart?

He doesn't like the concept of surrendering his heart and neither does she. And, just because they understand _some part_ of each other, it doesn't mean that they're meant to be. Because they like being understood, but the high walls are still there, and they are getting higher.

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{ L.O.V.E. E.V.O.L }

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"I don't want to watch _My Sister's Keeper_. It's sad and I don't want to cry." Came his argument as they're flicking through the list on _Netflix_.

Elsa's gaze shifts from the screen to his face, her eyes asks, _You can cry?_

"So what do you supposed we do then?" She asks aloud this time.

Everything else suggested is trash according to Hans. Elsa knows Hans would never go for anything else, he won't like those other choices. He doesn't want to go over their notes or talk about their upcoming assignments or even consider volunteering for the Law Clinic again. It's like he's lost the will to be a student. All they do is watch movies and series, and wow – they really have too much time on their hands.

But Hans doesn't reply, he keeps quiet, so it forces her to ask another question.

"Have you ever seen it? This film?" She says.

"God, no." He scoffs, arranging the files and folders in front of him. It's not even his.

"Then how do you know that you'll hate it?"

"Because it's _disgusting sad._ " He says, unwilling to tell her the truth.

This causes her to glare at him. He's sitting on her bed like he owns it. Maybe she can kick him off and make it look like an accident?

"Sadness isn't disgusting." Elsa argues, gripping onto the fabric of her skirt. She refuses to look at him now. She refuses to change the movie selection too. Why are they both so cranky? Maybe they're tired of being around one another. Too much togetherness. "If you don't have any suggestions then go do something else, I _want_ to watch it."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not." She answers seriously.

Hans grumbles but doesn't move, crossing his arms and slumping a little. They watch maybe fifteen minutes of the movie before Hans speaks up, "Wait, I think I've seen this."

"I thought you said you hadn't." Elsa answers, a little snippy. Usually Hans is the one who never liked talking during movies but maybe they're spending more time with each other than they thought. So much so that they're influencing each other a little _too much._

"I thought so too but, apparently, I remember a scene." He tells her, which even Hans himself finds odd. He doesn't tell anyone this, but usually he throws and suppresses all the memories he hates or finds useless.

"Which scene?"

But the moment her question leaves her a mouth, a smirk forms on Hans's own mouth. It's a sick twisted joke. "I shouldn't say, it'll ruin everything."

" _Which scene_ , Hans?" Elsa repeats herself. He can't just start a conversation and not know how to end it.

"The love story." He says, "I remember the love story, maybe that's why I hate it. It's ..." a happy never after. "... sad."

"What? Is sadness a terrible trait now?"

"No … it's just …" His brows furrow together. He sinks into this position. "I dunno." He lays and lies on her bed, not saying a word. Is he refusing to tell her? A liar by omission?

His handsome face looks conflicted. He doesn't need to say anything though because she _sees it_. In the corner of her eye, she sees a dream that never died. He's deeper than she thought he was. Deep down, he too wants love. The pure kind, they all dream off.

.

.

.

Some people say 'love' is a mystery. But Hans thinks it's as clear as day, people just refuse to accept that heartache also comes with 'love', so he calls it a load of dog shit.

;;

{ I lie in bed, I hate my guts,

A day in the dark,

A muddled afternoon }

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 **iv**

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"What are you going to do after you get your degree?" Elsa asks once they're third years. They've been … friends? together? … for a year now. It's hard to put a name on what they are.

He hums, a firm sound rumbling deep in his chest. He didn't like it the first time Elsa had pointed out that he looked lost. And he doesn't like it now. Yeah, he's **still** lost, but so what? He doesn't need anyone's help. When he wants it, he'll go and get it. But he doesn't like it when people offer it, he doesn't **need** anyone's pity. He hates pity.

"I don't know. Join a law firm?" Hans answers. He even has the audacity to shrug. He wants to be _something_ , but he doesn't know _what_. When twelve slots are already filled, it feels like he's just being fed the scraps. It's hard to make a gourmet meal out of practically nothing.

"You haven't planned anything?" Elsa asks, turning her head so fast that her blonde hair may as well slap him in the face, if her words didn't already. She's saying it in a manner that makes him sound like a complete and utter loser.

"I'm a big fan of risk. Go big or go home."

"You're terrible."

"Maybe I am."

But a little improvising never hurts anyone. If he had planned every aspect of his life, he wouldn't have decided to chuck two hours of his life at that communism area with Elsa. And the studying and movie nights, that wasn't planned room it just happened.

"What are your future plans?" He asks.

"I …" She pauses like she's afraid. Elsa, poor girl, so hesitant. "… I don't have enough money to get a Masters. My parents left _just enough_ for me to get my Bar. And my sister ... she still needs to get her degree so ... I'll just need to find a job quickly."

Hmm, unlike her, he's got money to throw around. "So you're uncertain too?" Hans wants to laugh but doesn't. Like he said, he's not _that_ rude.

"Is it a surprise that I'm a little uncertain?" She challenges.

"No." Hans answers. He's noticed she's been uncertain about a lot of things. Him, for example. She tip toes a lot around him. It's likes he's broken glass ready to cut her. He doesn't know if he's joking or not when he says, "What if you married rich instead?"

Her blue eyes flash with irritation. "You know that marriage is just a contract."

Ah, she's gone into lawyer mode (or maybe defence mode?) so he continues to play off his joking manner with a suggestion of "Get a Sugar Daddy then."

She wrinkles her nose and he counts the freckles on her lovely face. She tells him, "That's disgusting." Like sadness.

;;

"I do think that you're beautiful." Came his compliment while he's got his cheeks cupped in his bare hands. He's just … looking at her. Emerald eyes waiting for something. It's raw and perhaps a dead-end.

"What does that mean?" Elsa asks because she doesn't want to mistaken his words. She _knows_ Hans and she knows that he would never tell her something he doesn't mean. Even a joke has some truth sprinkled in it.

The corners of his lips twist. She's smart for asking questions, it keeps her as sharp as a knife (but sometimes it gets annoying). Hans doesn't want Elsa to misunderstand him. She's _too smart_ for that. He doesn't want her to think that 'you're beautiful' immediately translates to 'I love you' because sometimes 'you're beautiful' is exactly what it means. It just means that someone is 'pretty' or 'handsome', it's such a bland compliment, it's not even skin-deep. He doesn't know why people eat things like that up.

"Well," Hans says slowly. "I'm not saying that I'm in love with you, if that's what you're asking."

 _Good_. She secretly thinks. Elsa's grown to like Hans, she wouldn't want her curse spreading to him. Even if his fatger has a bunch of other successors.

He tells her, "I suppose I'm just infatuated by you. I'm infatuated by how lovely you look."

She reflects on his words for a moment. She even contemplates on whether or not to place her hand on her chest for many minutes and feel if her heart beats wildly. They say, 'being young and in love makes you prettier' but … who exactly are 'they'?

"Infatuated," She echoes like it's an agreement. Yes, she thinks she feels the same way about him. So she turns to him and says, "Thank you for being honest with me."

;;

"Do you want it?" Hans asks her while they're out in public; kept a distance and an arm's length away from each other. They're not even holding hands, he's still wearing his gloves.

"Pardon?" Elsa blinks, looking away from the glass casing and all of its jewellery.

"Do you want it?" He repeats, this time tapping on the glass, the spot where the specific object of her affection glimmers like her teary eyes a year ago.

"N – No." She backpaddles. "What makes you think so?"

"It was the way you were looking at it." He answers, eyebrows suddenly furrowed with seriousness.

She doesn't know if that means that he'll buy it for her or not. Is he saying 'don't dream on it' or 'tell me your fantasies'? Regardless, she doesn't want this conversation to continue so she replies, "I don't want it."

"Are you sure?" Hans asks, double, triple checking. He's adopted her traits now. What next? Will he be horribly sad?

She doesn't even pause. "Yes."

He doesn't believe her. Her eyes looks pitiful, yearning for something she can't afford. What good is money if he can't spend it?

"Excuse me." He says to the person behind the counter. "Can I look at that?"

"What are you doing?" Elsa hisses when the thing she wants is out in the open. She doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

"Just looking." Hans answers like it's nothing. Honestly, this isn't a game. But he slips it around her finger so casually and it looks tiny, even on her small hands, and he wonders …

"Are you done?" Elsa asks, pulling the thing off.

He doesn't even get to reply, Elsa walks away before he can. He notes her shaky steps like she's just seen the dead and her clenched jaw.

"It's not what you think." He says.

"Isn't it?"

"I'm not in love with you, Elsa." He can't be around for her to count on. He won't love her right, but he'll suffocate her. "It's ..."

It's infatuation because on days where he doesn't like her, there is no love beating in his chest, telling him to get over an argument. He does not like her insecurities, he doesn't understand them to a degree. He thinks they're annoying, the kind where the nit-picky side of him wins over her overall kindness. He picks every small detail of the bigger picture.

;;

{ L.O.V.E.

Do you love me? }

;;

Elsa realises later ( _way later_ ) why her late father had warned her to be weary of men like Hans. It wasn't because someone like him was trouble. It was, a known fact, perhaps, because someone like Hans _would_ make her sad. The high life of someone like him, spending all day moaning and groaning about things, yet, refusing to change. It was awful, sitting there and soaking all these complains, it felt like she could drown in his words.

Yet … here she was, accompanying Hans and his family. It was some gathering in a mansion so big that it could be dubbed a palace. The event was to get well-connected to the elite because sometimes genuine experience, hours of volunteering and a polished resume isn't enough.

She's _so_ miserable that she can taste the end. She can't wait.

"Excuse me for a moment." Elsa says to his parents, smiling politely, but her grin doesn't reach her eyes.

…

He finds her sitting alone and clutching on the armrests of a chair. Napkin shreds on her lap.

"Elsa, what's wrong?"

She wants to excuse herself as her anxieties gathered at a corner, ready to spread and swallow the whole room. She needs to get out of here. She doesn't know why he brought her here. What does he see in her? She doesn't fit in with these people.

"Hans … please, take me home." She says looking up at him. Everything about her should scream beautiful – blonde hair pulled up elegantly and pretty dress, but her blue eyes are teary.

"We just got here, you haven't even had a chance to talk to the guests yet. Won't you stay?" He asks her, trying to divert her attention. He thought she wanted a future. He thought she wanted to be certain.

But, it doesn't work. Not like a year ago. She's grown accustom to his tricks. She's too careful, too afraid. No amount of distracting questions can stray her sense of fear.

"No, I want to go now. Please." Even when she's crying, she makes sure to be polite. Does she plan everything before saying it? Does he have to be her Plan B?

…

"You don't like them? Do you?" Hans asks, eyes on the road and hands around the steering wheel.

"Who?" Her shoulder twitches and she lifts her blue eyes from her somewhat busy hands, tearing another napkin she found in her purse into shreds.

Hans finally answers, "My parents."

"That's not true." She likes anybody's parents because she doesn't have any.

"Elsa?" He asks, trying to not stare at her. He needs to not crash the car. His two hundred percent effort has gone down the drain. He's now used to keeping his expectations low. Low expectations means that he'll never be disappointed … but that also means that he'll never be fully satisfied.

Elsa says, "I don't hate them, if that's what you're asking."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't hate them?" He asks this because maybe he **wants** her to hate his parents. His father is such a condescending man and his mother … she just follows her husband everywhere like an unsure puppy. It's like she has no thoughts of her own. It's pitiful.

"No, I don't hate your parents." Elsa gives him a full sentence because she doesn't want him to think otherwise. Then she asks, "Do _you_ hate them?"

He doesn't look her in the eyes and echoes her words, but says it short and sweet, "No."

She stays quiet for the longest time and he waits after that, maybe even holding his breath a little, until he realises the conversation is truly over. And that's when it hits him, her silence is his _favourite_ sound. Like the night she called him and he had to constantly cut her off, when he has to shush her with movies and sit in the library. Hans thinks, silence is much better than endless questions and answers.

(Then why did he even bring it up if he himself is reluctant to answer his own question?)

"I see ..." She says some time later.

.

.

.

"I see ..." ... you lying, and I hope you know.

;;

 **v**

;;

"You didn't have to get it for me. I told you I didn't want it." She tells him when he shows up at her doorstep one evening with Plan B. Or maybe it was Plan A (something planned from the very beginning, sounds like Elsa).

She's wearing a nice dress, and he's looking sharp with clever hands wrapped around a shopping bag.

"Well, I did get it for you." He says, sounding offended. Or maybe forced. By whom? Maybe an invisible force. It transfers to her when he shoves the bag in her way.

Elsa stares at him like he's the bottom of the universe and she doesn't even try to hide it. The muscles and arches in her body are all sharp angles and tense nerves but she has no choice. She has to accept it.

"Thank you." She says, politely.

"No problem." He answers, just as polite.

But her anger is still there, it can't be dissolved that easily.

He's just one step closer to her heart. _She knows it_. So when he leaves and she shuts her door, she keeps the damn gift in the farthest corner of her room, tossed in a drawer. The receipt still lays in the bag it came with, she never tries it on once or imagines herself wearing that lovely ring.

;;

They end up having this ridiculous shouting match. It's about the ring, Plan A or B, their future or whatever. It's about **everything** , really.

"Leave me alone!" She yells.

But his two feet are planted on the ground. "I'll give you anything! Anything you want!" He says carelessly, holding her arm in his hungry hands.

"There's nothing you can give!" She tells him, trying to shake him off. There's so much raw emotion in her voice.

"I have money!" He yells loudly in desperation. Again, Elsa is reminded of _Gatsby_. Hans's eyes are as green as the lighthouse that _Gatsby_ could never reach and his need even more so. But she can't be his _Daisy._

"I don't care about your money!"

"Please!" He begs. And she knows how he hates to beg. "Please, I'll surrender everything to you, just – just don't leave me. I can't be alone. I don't want to be alone. I – " He almost tells her how he loves her oh-so much, _too much._ "– I can't image my life without you!"

She's always there when he needs her; filling his time and space and existence. She is **the first person** to have never cared about his riches and status, and it's like he wants to be her Romeo and die with her.

His voice can turn her core to rubble but she still tells him, "I don't want you!"

"What do you want then?! What is it, Elsa?!" If it's not him or his money or even a stupid stable future he can help set-up for her, then what does she want?

"I – I don't know!" She yells back. She hates when her plans fall apart! She hates when she looks stupidly lost. "I don't know what I want!" But it's not love, there is no such thing.

.

.

.

Before he lets her close the passenger door of his car, he looks at her and says, "You'll dig into people's hearts."

She lets it hit her; cold and hot.

.

.

.

He can't forget her, _won't_ let himself. He'll sip on her lips and hang on her like a thread.

But he tricks even himself, telling him he expected this, because he cannot lie and say that this event didn't kick him in the teeth, and left him black and blue. He should have seen this a mile away.

He tells himself, moving forward is the only best solution. That, and forgetting about her. If he's not swimming then he's sinking and if he's not growing stronger then he's getting weaker. So he leaves, for good this time (or that's what he tricks himself into thinking, _again_ ).

;;

"Hans?" She says. _Just_ his name. _Only_ his name. "Why did you call me here?" She asks this time, small hands wrapped around chains. She's swaying lightly on the swing-set. "What do you want?"

And his lips lift in a smirk. _Well._ They haven't talked in weeks, he was getting worried. _Him._ Hans who doesn't like even the idea of worrying. And here he thought, he had no heart and no compassion.

"I didn't come here for _me_. I came here for _you_." He answers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Her head snaps back a little and her throat feels like she's swallowed a knife. Since when had she mean so much to him? Didn't he want to stay away?

"I just …" He has his fist pressed against his lips as if he's trying to contain his words before it flies out into the world and ruin things further. It's so different, _it's careful_. He's _never_ been careful, just destructive – a rich bastard who complains about studying but just watches films all day.

He looks over her; knees bent, ankles tucked, hair loose and falling over her shoulders. He feels ... _something_. He wonders if she does too … so, just like that, he becomes what every sane person fears to be – insane.

He reaches over and tries to cup her face. He wants her to stop moving, he wants her to show him badly she's hurt and how he can take the pain away. But all she wants to do is smack his hand away. She doesn't like how he's prying into her life.

"Don't." Elsa says and the hand placed on her cheek curls as if to squeeze out a forgotten memory – _love doesn't exist._

"I think I'm in love with you." He confesses but he doesn't even know what he 'loves' about her.

If he were to look back and write a story about her, there'd be nothing extraordinary standing out. She's kept that part of herself. What would anyone know about her if they read their 'love story'? All they'd know is that she's smart, is too unsure of herself, likes plans, doesn't know how to express any emotion without thinking too much, is too pretty.

"I thought you didn't believe in love." Elsa replies. Her words are a shield. Her defences are still up. She's cursed! Doesn't he see that? _She's cursed!_

"Maybe I don't anymore. Maybe I believe in love now. What about you?"

"I don't." Believe in love.

And after saying this, he recognises the clench in her jaw. It clenches and clenches and clenches. He wondered if she would ever stop.

"Don't you feel _it_ then?" The questions rises up his throat, an unstoppable force. He doesn't have to explain what 'it' is though. Because it's so crystal clear. He's talking about 'love' like a crazy person.

She sends him one look and he knew that he was going to crumble.

"I don't feel, I know." Came her instant reply. Elsa lifts her hands, open palms. She borrows his words and tells him, "It's like you said, it's just infatuation."

Oh.

 _Oh._

He grits his teeth, grounding them with so much strength that he thinks he may just destroy rows of perfectly straight teeth with the sheer anger of it all. He wants to say _something_.

But he can't. _Can't_ because she's wearing a warning sign.

"I understand." He tells her, even though he does not.

.

.

.

That night, he dreams of himself breaking a mirror with his bare hands; seven years of bad luck (as if he wasn't unlucky already), what a nightmare.

.

.

.

They're falling for things that aren't real. They're dancing around the biggest lie they've ever convinced themselves.

;;

{ L.O.V.E.

Love is evil }

;;

 **vi**

;;

"So," He says slowly, staring at her graduation robes, the scroll in her hand and the blue sky. "This is good-bye." Forever.

"Yes." She says after a moment of looking at him. He won't look at her but she wants the memory of him burn into her mind. "I will miss you." She says each syllable like it's picked with caution and care.

"Will you?" He says much too quickly. "I don't think so. You'll just miss being around my fame and big money." He lies. It's easier to lie. It's easier to be alone. He knew he ruined everything by admitting his loneliness.

She takes a step closer and pokes his chest with a finger, forcing him to look at her. Though the motion of it is sharp, her voice is still soft. "No, contrary to popular belief, you do have a heart. And I know that I will miss it."

.

.

.

They don't understand that a heart can be shaped and reshaped, and in the end ... it'll still be theirs to keep.

;;

 **end**

;;

 **Notes 3**

Most Helsa writers: (writes beautiful description of Admiral Hans Westergaard)

Me who knows nothing of the sea despite living on a fucking island surrounded by water: Modern Hans … :) (finger guns)

– **30** **October 2018**


End file.
